Complexity
by Shadsie
Summary: Meryl ponders the complexity of her relationship with Vash. Post animeseries. VxM.


Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, nor Meryl Stryfe. Please don't sue, I'm poor.

COMPLEXITY

I waited for him and he came back to me. I'd never told him what I'd been beginning to feel for him, and I'd regretted it. How was it that Milly could be so open with her heart and I couldn't? I wouldn't have had the courage to stay if she was not there with me. Her presence reminded me that I could lose something irreplaceable in an instant, of the transience of life, especially in these dangerous times with dangerous people.

My father told me that I liked to chase danger. I stayed outside to watch windstorms as a kid, heedless of the lightning and sand. I liked to break wild thomases as a teenager. Funny that I wound up in Insurance – but even then, I chased danger. I always was eager to take the most dangerous assignments – factory explosions, storm-ravaged towns, the general disaster investigation circuit. Milly was eager for this work, too, and soon, we were permanently assigned together as partners. We even did bodyguard work for a wealthy client in danger from an organized crime network once.

I suppose it was inevitable that I'd chase Vash the Stampede. Who knew he'd turn out to be such a nitwit? He was nothing like the rumors, yet everything like them. He was a destructive force, but not by his own will. He was a myth and a man.

He came back to me with the wounded but living carcass of his brother slung over his shoulder. The story was beyond believing, but in Vash's case "It wasn't me, it was my evil twin" rang true more times than not. He laid Knives in one of the bedrooms of our rental house and nursed him. Milly helped Vash care for his brother. I... knowing all that Vash told me of him, couldn't even look at him without a shudder and a feeling of disgust creeping up my skin and tightening my throat. I thought about killing him, more times than once, but I stayed my hand – for Vash's sake.

Many months we stayed like this, living, all four of us together in the rental house. Knives only regained semi-consciousness and would groan from the back bedroom. Vash's own wounds healed. Milly and I worked in town. I ventured once to tell Vash that I loved him. He was at his brother's beside and I'd brought him dinner. He regarded me with silence and a sad expression. I quietly left the room.

The next day, he asked me to marry him.

"Vash?" I asked.

"I've... never taken a wife," he said with a nervous smile. "I thought it was about time." He let loose a laugh that was even more nervous than his smile. "Not that I haven't tried!"

We spoke for a while after that. I agreed to be his wife, earning me a look of surprise mixed with joy from Vash. He seemed to genuinely think that I would turn him down. He explained to me what he was. He had before. He emphasized his slow aging to me – that I would grow old while he remained young. I was tempted to smack him for suggesting my growing old and gray, but I refrained because of the sadness in his eyes. He was speaking seriously here. I told him that I didn't care – that I'd stay with him for as long as he would have me.

We discussed our first time at a private booth at Libby's, the town lunch shop. I had insisted on discussion. I just wanted everything to go right. He blushed and fidgeted his fingers, nearly spilling his mug of beer several times. We didn't discuss the little details, only where we should have our honeymoon. Knowing Vash's clueless ness when it came to women, I was afraid that if I'd let him plan it, he'd book us a room at some cheesy hotel. I noticed him staring oddly at the bar.

"We could always sneak in here after hours," he suggested. "I've always had a fantasy about being with a woman on top of a bar."

I gritted my teeth and bopped the lecherous fool upside the head. I stormed out of the restaurant with him calling "Meryl! Meryl, I'm soooooory!" after me.

We talked more over the next several days and the suggestions got better. We got married by the local Justice of the Peace under the names of Meryl Stryfe and Ericks Saverem. Vash could not use his actual name. Milly and I had been working to get the bounty on his head lifted for some time, but he still bears the dubious honor of being a wanted man.

I wonder, sometimes, in the months we've been together, if it is a game of pretend to him. We live under the assumed name of "Saverem," though he insists that it is his true last name. Nobody in this town calls him "Vash." He is not "Vash" anymore, only "Ericks." He's been alone so long, on the run, roaming the world, searching for his brother. A "homey" life maybe is just a whim to him. There is no way for me to really know for certain. What will happen when I do grow old? Will he become so sad at watching me age that he will have to turn from me and leave? I believe he will stay with me. I hope so.

We didn't really have a honeymoon. We spent our first night together in my bedroom of the house. Vash was afraid to leave Knives alone in the house – even in the comatose state he was in, and even for one night. Milly slept in the bedroom on the other end of the house, and we hoped we wouldn't disturb her.

Sex... with one's psychotic brother-in-law in the next room and one's best friend down the hall... wasn't exactly the way I'd pictured my wedding night. It was all nervousness and fumbling in the dark, undressing each other by moonlight.

"N-no..." he'd said to me as I started to unbuckle his leather top shirt. "You don't want to look at them. They aren't for ladies' eyes."

"Don't be ridiculous, Vash," I'd replied "I don't care about your scars. They're... beautiful... in a way."

"Maybe we shouldn't do this, Meryl... I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" I'd asked. "C'mon, Vash, you can't be that big."

"No... just... you're human... and I'm not... and... "

I shut him up with a kiss.

What I remember most of that night was how we cuddled afterwards. We lay awake in each other's arms until morning. We share most nights like this, with and without sex. Vash likes to be held.

He tells me I feel like Rem – that he feels safe in my arms, and warm.

Again, I wonder if this life is a game to him, if he is, after over a century of living, only a child inside. Does he really want a wife, or does he want a mother? Does he want some sick combination of both? Maybe I shouldn't analyze it so much. He lost his Rem a long time ago. My hope is that he realizes that I cannot replace her. I think he does, but I'm not sure. I'm glad, however, that he can feel safe and warm in my arms.

He has a peace upon his face that I didn't see when he'd roamed and when Milly and I followed after him. I want to take away his pain and give him peace.

END

S.E. Nordwall

Notation: The scene with the bar – if certain people read this, I know it will ruffle feathers. Calm down, chicas. Yes, I am poking fun at a certain fanfic, but don't mean this to be a slam on it or anything – just gentle poke. The fic that I drew that inspiration from, while I found it personally out of character, is good for those craving light n' fluffy PWP and, on the whole, has some very nice imagery and poetic notions. I just thought, for the purposes of my story "What would Meryl do if Vash suggested they make love on a bar?" – the image of her smacking or bopping the crud outta Vash was just a funny image to me – too funny to pass up writing.

Making fun of things, (fanfic included) is everyone's right. For a good satire on most VxM stories by writers new to the fandom, read MSKYdragons' "Not All There." A little squicky, but darkly hilarious!


End file.
